Planeswalker Origins
by GamerDragon13
Summary: From the heroic Svanhilde to the graceful Opal to charming Belinda, these 31 tales tell the stories of 31 Planeswalkers from across the Multiverse. Witness the battle of the twins Eveline and Edemire, Karr fall from grace, and the formation of the Council of Dawn. Rated M for dark themes. Warnings will be at the top of each story.
1. Svanhilde's Origin: Snowborn

_Warning: This story contains self hate, light body shaming, implications of transphobia, self-esteem issues, victim-blaming, and severe child abuse. View discretion advised._

* * *

Little Svan was a runt, weak and plain in every sense of both words. At the young age of eight, he was already shorter than his four older brothers (ages 10, 12, 14, and 16 respectively) were at this age. Also at this age, they started coming into the own. Their blonde hair started taking on different shades, their blue eyes became more defined, and they were starting to get taller, stronger, and more in touch with their talents. But Little Svan's hair was still a boring blonde, his eyes still a pale, boring blue, and he had no talent in magic, combat, hunting, or riding. He also hated himself, felt wrong.

He stood in front of a mirror, hair messy and dressed in baggy hand-me-downs from the shortest of his brothers. The door to his small room opened, the hinges squeaking as his nanny entered. She had raised him after his mother fell from her horse and passed away of her injuries, and helped raised his brothers. She saw him standing before his mirror, looking depressed, and set her basket down.

"What troubles you, Little Sun?" she asked. She was a fair woman named Gerda.

"There's something wrong with me and I don't know what," Svan answered, and sighed. "Actually, there's a lot of things wrong with me. I'm shorter than any of my brothers when they were eight. I look boring. I have no skills. I don't even have magic! And now I look in this mirror and I just feel gross even though I bathe regularly!"

Gerda sighed and went over. "You're not short; you're a child. Your brothers just grew faster. Nothing wrong with that. And you don't look boring. I bet you'll have the most beautiful eyes and hair soon enough. Not to mention you're good at helping people, and sewing. You demanded to know how to sew so you could try and make your clothes fit. And you picked up on it quickly. As for magic…I have an eye for these things. I think you do have magic, it just hasn't sparked yet. Not everyone's magic is crystal-clear at first." She turned so she and Svan were looking in the mirror. "What about you makes you feel gross?"

"I don't…" Svan's eyes shut. He sort of swayed on his feet. "I want to be a Valkyrie."

The Valkyries…Some called them Angels. They were the beautiful, winged women who were once female heroes and queens who were so great in life that in death, they returned as the angelic beings they now are. They roamed the lands of Soknheim, seeking battlefields and brave adventurers, watching from afar as they gave their lives to protect others, fight for what they believed in, fought against those who hurt them, or simply lost their fight with illness, an illness they fought with tooth and nail. They took the spirits and made them the Einherjar. The Einherjar residing in the Hall of Heroes, a spirit realm where they gathered to await the end of days: The Return of Lindmaw. Every so often though, the Einherjar would leave to aid the people, unwilling to enjoy the afterlife and go to fight. As long as they were ready to fight Lindmaw when he emerged from his slumber and harmed none, the Einherjar were free to do as they pleased.

"I know it's stupid because I'm a boy, but I want to be a Valkyrie," Svan pointed out. "I don't…Want to be a boy. I didn't ask to be born this way!"

Gerda nodded. "Understandable."

Svan looked to her.

"Sweetie, have you heard of the hero Thurd?" Gerda asked.

"Isn't she a Valkyrie?" Svan asked. Thurd was a Valkyrie who usually flew over the hold of Lindwatch, watching the people from the sky.

"Yes, but this was before she became a Valkyrie," Gerda answered. "When she was mortal, Thrud was actually a boy, but she wanted to be a Valkyrie more than anything. So, she studied powerful magic and alchemy, trained herself in magic and combat, and eventually consumed a potion to will her body to become that of a woman's. She then went Skyrealm where she studied to become a Valkyrie in death, befriended a Gryff, and rode into battle for those the Valkyries declared would win. But one does not merely study or tame a Gryff to become a Valkyrie. When the Valkyries declared a tyrannical lord to be a victor, Thurd had a crisis of conscience. She aided the side that was doomed to lose, and turned the tide of battle. Thurd aided a rebellion against a tyrant and they won. Thurd battled the Tyrant of Heartland and his wicked sons and won, putting Erika's tenth great-grandmother on the throne. And then, she died of her wounds, and became a Valkyrie."

"So Thurd was a boy and became a girl?" Svan asked.

"That's right," Gerda answered.

"I guess I learn how to become a girl then," Svan muttered. That's when it just clicked. He looked in the mirror. "I. Am. A. Girl." It felt right to say. It felt right to hear. He no longer felt so awful about himself. No, herself. "I am a girl!" She declared. "And my name is Svanhilde!"

Gerda smiled and hugged her. "Shall we tell your brothers?" she asked. She knew Svanhilde loved her brothers. They cared about her. Unlike…

"Yes, but not Father," Svanhilde answered. "He hates me."

* * *

Svanhilde found her oldest brother first: Brandr, who was 16 and already taller than most doorways! He was training in the fighting ring, brawling in hand-to-hand combat with multiple men and women. They were trying to beat him, but he was too big and strong for them to simply bring down. One woman used two men to jump onto Brandr's back and she got her arms around his neck to try and knock him out. Well, that would have work if Brandr hadn't been able to grab her and slam her on the ground, knocking the air from her lungs. Svanhilde winced at that and watched as the woman rolled away, coughing. She got up and stumbled over, smiling at Svanhilde before joining her.

"Hey Kid," she greeted warmly. She was a full shorter than Brandr, skin pale and freckled with a scar on her forehead about her right brow where she had hit her head as a child when she fell from her horse. Her hair was a lovely, feather-soft, brown with equally soft honey colored eyes. She was muscular, daring, and a talented rider. Svanhilde wished to learn from her.

"Hi Ericka," she responded, looking up with a smile. "Can you teach me to ride a horse?"

"Of course," Ericka answered. "I'm always happy to teach the talent of my people, especially to my future siblings." She and Brandr were engaged, so she spent much of her time in Lindwatch. She could also handle the giant of a man. It took a great deal of trust for a woman to let a man do what he just did.

"Ericka, can you keep a secret?" Svanhilde asked, though she knew Heartlanders were good at secrets.

"Of course," Ericka answered, looking to Svanhilde.

"I'm a girl and I want to be called Svanhilde. Just not in front of father or people loyal to him." She didn't need to explain why, for Ericka knew. She could be blind and know what was going on. Her future father-in-law was once, supposedly, a good and decent man. With the passing of his wife, he had become mean and abusive, but not to his eldest sons. He was that way to Little Svanhilde. Erika was honestly _afraid_ the brute of a man was going to kill her little sister.

"Okay. Are we telling Brandr at least?" Ericka questioned, raising a brow.

"I'm telling all my brothers," Svanhilde answered.

They watched Brandr knock out the rest of his opponents, gaining cheers and praise. When he saw his little brother, he smiled warmly and went over. "Water, please?" he asked, voice deep. He saw his little brother nodded and go fetch the water jug from nearby. Little Svan brought it over and held it up. Brandr thanked him and drank deeply and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "How are you today, Squirt?" He never meant anything negative by calling his little brother that. He was almost seven feet tall, and everyone knew it would be impossible to match his height, even when Svan was done growing.

"Can we go somewhere quiet?" Svan asked.

Brandr nodded and Ericka fetched his shirt. It was an hour before noon, so they headed down to the community kitchen for lunch. Cooks, both men and women, were preparing food for the lunch and wiping down the tables and benches in preparation for the local guards and soldiers as well as the few citizens who did not have their own kitchens or resided in the bunkhouse. Brandr carried his brother on his shoulders, knowing he would struggle to keep up on the walk to the community kitchen. One of the cooks was sweeping in front of the kitchen when he looked up to Brandr, Erika, and Svan. He called into the building to alert the others.

"What do you have today?" Brandr asked.

"A new trend from Morritine Hold, Lord Brandr," the cook answered. "It is a flat bread with a crushed tomato and herb mixture, topped with shredded white cheeses and cheddar, and additionally, any toppings possible. We're going with sliced red pork."

"Do they had a name for it?" Brandr asked. Morritine was always coming up with new food inventions, their seers somehow blessed with wisdom of otherworldly concepts.

"The seers call it pizza," the cook answered. "And the red pork has a name now: Pepperoni."

"The language source is different," Svan pointed out.

"I couldn't agree more," the cook stated. "We can a round ready if you wish to try.

And try they did! It was amazing stuff as they sat and ate the pizza beside the kitchen. No one was coming yet, except for Svanhilde and Brandr's other siblings. The first to arrive was the second oldest Ulmer, age 14. He was a real string bean and, so far, the shortest at that age. His blond hair was pale and worn long, his eyes were narrow yet unusually vibrant, he was the palest of them, and dressed in blue and white robes with leather pauldrons, bracers, boots, and belt. On said belt was an assortment of potions, spell and alchemical components, a couple belt satchels, and a knife for extra protection, though he seldom used it as he had already comprehended the most difficult of spells. He was a mage, one able to wield ice and snow naturally and was a taught heiromancer. In simplest terms: A law mage.

Gunnolf, age 12, arrived next. All of the muscle was in his legs and arms, but lean and he was overall narrow. At age 12, he was taller than Ulmer had been, but nowhere near as tall as Brandr had been. His blue eyes were more round with a greenish tint to them, his hair was a darker blond and short, and he was very tan. He dressed in leathers and dark greens with green face paint in the shape of four large claw marks from one side of his face to the other. He had several pouches, knives, a bow, and quiver full of arrows. He was an apprentice hunter. When he sat with them, he grabbed a slice of pizza and ate it hungrily.

Hrimfaxi, age 10, youngest of the sons, and gaining on Gunnolf height-wise was the last to arrive. His blond hair was pale like Ulmer's, but short and his blue eyes were dark like sapphires. He was already starting to get some muscle, already starting his training to become a soldier. He wore a white tunic, black breeches, and simple leather boots. He, like all his siblings, carried a knife for self-defense. He took a seat and looked to his siblings and Ericka, knowing something was up. "What's going on?" he asked. He always pretended to be uninterested, but actually enjoyed news and information. Brandr once joked that he should be a spy! "There's no honor in it, unfortunately," Hrimfaxi pointed out, "and so father will never allow it."

"Apparently Little Svan has an important announcement," Brandr answered with a warm, contagious smile, and so they all turned to him. Hrimfaxi already deduced that Ericka already knew, given that she had a hand on Svan's shoulder to reassure him.

"I'm…I'm a girl and I want to be called Svanhilde from now on," his brother announced.

"I have a sister then?" Brandr asked.

Svanhilde nodded.

"I always wanted a little sister!" Brandr cheered, and hugged her. Svanhilde hugged back.

"You've finally found yourself then! A first big step to finally feeling good about yourself!" Ulmer added. "I'll help you find that gender-changing potion. It's really advanced stuff!"

Gunnolf went and hugged Svanhilde. "Are you going to become a Valkyrie? I'll teach you archery!"

"And I can teach you how to better use your knife," Hrimfaxi added, smiling lightly.

"In addition to my riding lessons," Ericka added.

"I'll teach you hand-to-hand so you can hit any boys who try to hurt you," Brandr pointed out.

"And magic runs in the family," Ulmer explained. "Even if you aren't a mage, you might still have the capacity to learn arcana!"

Everyone talking at once and over each other began to make Svanhilde a little dizzy, and then she said so. Everyone quieted down and gave her a little space. Settled down, she reached for some pizza and helped herself to a slice. However, a man loyal to their father heard everything and went to inform the Jarl…

* * *

What had come first was the riding lesson with Ericka, whom had given her a Heartland Forest Pony, which were rather small. Perfect for Svanhilde who was already short! Ericka first got the basics in: Care and grooming, maintaining tack, saddling the horse, mounting, where to hold on, and getting the pony to walk. This took roughly two hours, followed by taking off the saddle and bridle and putting them away and a cooldown for the horse. After that, Svanhilde went to Brandr for hand-to-hand. Three long, hard hours. Brandr had to go easy because Svanhilde was so small. She was taught how to make a fist properly and to mind her feet. By supper time, Svanhilde was bruised and tired, but that's when Gerda came running out to them.

"Don't go inside," she warned. "Bjorn is on a warpath right now!"

"What happened?" Brandr asked.

"He found out Svanhilde wishes to be a girl," Gerda answered. She had a bag. "I'm taking Svanhilde to my mother's house where she'll be safe."

Brandr growled. "It's for the best." He knelt, but that still wasn't on level with Svanhilde. She still had to strain to look. "Go with Gerda," he told her. "Your lessons will continue."

Svanhilde nodded, not needing to be told twice. She took Gerda's hand and scurried to the home of her mother, Gylda. She lived in a small cottage with sleeping quarters just up the stairs. She was fair woman where Gerda clearly got her looks. She looked up from the tattered old book she was reading when the door flew open. Gerda came in with Svanhilde and a pack.

"Mother, Jarl Bjorn is on a warpath and I fear for Svanhilde's life," Gerda explained. "Would you please let her stay here until things get better?"

"Bjorn has been a right beast for the last 6 years, so of course," Gylda answered. "Anything to spite him."

"Six years?" Svanhilde asked. She could not remember her father ever being kind, but did not remember much before she was 4. No one did after so many years! She always assumed her mother died giving birth to her and that's why he hated her. "I thought my mama died when I was born."

"Who told you-? Never mind, that's wrong," Gerda answered. "Good Halfrid was killed by a bear while defending you and a Gryff." She sighed and knelt beside Svanhilde. "It doesn't matter, for the Gryffs had been caught in a dishonorable hunter's trap. So Halfrid hid you behind the Gryff and fought the oncoming bear. When we found you, the Gryff was still trapped, but protecting you. Halfrid and the bear were dead. Brandr was already strong and managed to free the Gryff while I carried you home. Despite its injury, the Gryff followed. I guess it wanted to be sure you were safe before returning to Skyrealm."

That made Svanhilde proud. Her mother was the best! That meant, though, that her mother had died heroically! Her mother could be an Einherjar!

"Yes, she became an Einherjar," Gerda pointed out. "Thurd came with us."

Svanhilde nodded. She couldn't be prouder!

* * *

The next few weeks followed a routine. Up at dawn to help Gylda with chores and learning to cook and clean and sew until nine in the morning. Then she would go to the stables where Erika taught her to muck out the stall and two hours of riding. When Svanhilde was used to the saddle, they worked on trotting, then galloping, and finally, racing. The obstacle were added at the end of the third week, though small and easy for the small pony. After riding, it was hand-to-hand with Brandr, which always left Svanhilde with some many bruises. After that, Hrimfaxi taught Svanhilde how to sneak around, listen in on people without being noticed, pick locks, and how to use knives and daggers.

"For someone training to be a soldier, you sure know some sneaky stuff," she pointed out as they went to the community kitchen sometime during the second week.

"I know, but this can all save your life later on," Hrimfaxi answered, watching the ground. "Besides, it's helped me find out who let loose your secret to Father. It was that nosey sot Fritjof. I'm going to make his life hard." And indeed he did.

After lunch, he would sneak into the meadhall for studying with Ulmer. Ulmer had already taught Svanhilde how to read, write, and count. Now came three hours of more complex work with the court wizard Gosta. On the second week, they discovered something incredible! Svanhilde was a Phosphoromancer, able to control lights and produce them. She created little spheres of light and could make them dance and bob around. It made her giggled. Ulmer hugged her in joy. Finally, Hrimfaxi would fetch her to sneak her out and took her to the hunting lodge where Gunnolf and the other hunters taught her wood carving, how to make a bow and arrows, archery, and maintaining hunting equipment. It was here she learned to use a whetstone on her knives to keep them sharp.

"I can't wait to get bigger so I can learn more," she told Gerda at the end of the third week. She had her back against a doorframe so the woman could take her measure her. It seemed impossible at first, but not it was clear she was hitting a growth spurt.

"It might be happening soon," Gerda pointed out. "In the last three weeks, you've grown half a foot!"

Svanhilde ducked away. The morning after her arrival, Gerda made a mark to show where she had been. Now she was six inches taller! She hugged her nanny, happy to be growing.

It was the end of the next week when Gerda measured her again: Two more inches! Svanhilde cheered when Gunnolf came running in. He was drenched in sweat and breathing heavy. The women turned to him in concern.

"He's snapped! He's bloody snapped!" he gasped. "I think he's going to actually kill her!"

They didn't bother with packing. Gunnolf just grabbed Svanhilde by the hand and led her away. Gerda and Gylda packed Svanhilde's belongings and hid them under the floorboards. They sat at the table and acted casually. They would put on a performance for Bjorn is he chose to come. Meanwhile, Gunnolf led Svanhilde to the stables and helped her tack up her pony.

"Ride hard and don't look back," he told her hurriedly. "Ericka will come for you in the morning and take you to her mother."

"How will you find me?" Svanhilde asked, fear on her face.

"Follow the moon's course west. Ride for the Dragon's Maw," Gunnolf answered. "Father does not dare to near the Dragon's Maw out of fear of Florissa."

Svanhilde nodded shakily. The Dragon's Maw was an ancient cave deep in the forest directly west of the city of Lindhilde. Very few dared to travel close to the cave because of the ancient Elder Dragon who resided there. Florissa was known to be a benevolent being who protected animals and children in her cave. Some said the children under her care never grew up and that any child who sought her protection would be able to find the cave. Time to find out.

She heeled the sides of her pony gently. Little Storm, the name she had given the pony, galloped away from the stable. Gunnolf watched from the stables as Svanhilde and her pony disappeared into the dark wood before hearing the shouts of his father and his men. Gunnolf ran into the stables to hide…

* * *

Svanhilde looked up. The clouds came from nowhere! The moon's glow was gone and every little shadow spooked the child! Her pony stayed calm and began trotting. Within an hour though, Little Storm halted, snorting in discomfort. He shifted nervously. What scared the pony? There was a raspy, panting-grunting sound, which made Svanhilde shake and freeze. Those sounds…They became very growly sound. Those were the sounds of a bear. A massive brown bear came out, and roared at them. Little Storm reared and whinnied in fright, and being a novice rider, Svanhilde fell from the saddle. Little Storm fled and Svanhilde scrambled to her feet, winded, as the bear charged and swiped at her. It left four cuts in her thigh, making the child scream bloody murder. The bear readied to devour her when the sound of wings and stamping hooves alerted them to the arrival of a Gryff.

Gryffs were amazing creatures, with the body of a winged horse and the neck and head of a swan. This one was white as snow with crystal blue eyes. It spread its large swan wings, making itself look much bigger and swished its tail. It stamped the ground let out a terrifying sound between a honk and screech. It reared and batted its wings and front legs at the bear. The bear roared again, backing off Svanhilde. The Gryff stamped down, missing Svanhilde's prone form. She looked at its legs, and saw the hind right leg had horrible scars, almost as if it had been caught in a cowardly hunter's trap. The Gryff charged after the bear, following it back into the woods in a chase. Svanhilde was now utterly alone. She sniffled and cried. Her leg hurt horribly! Light entered the clearing along with the sounds of men's voices.

"There's the rat," snarled a deep, angry voice. Bjorn, Svanhilde's father. She heard him take out a knife and stomp forward. He grabbed Svanhilde by the hair and forced her to her feet where he slammed his fist into the bridge of her nose. There was a sickening crack and blood flowed from her nostrils. She screamed in pain. Just what she needed! Then she felt him cut her face, starting above her right eyebrow and dragging the knife to her jawline. Svanhilde screamed again and managed to jerk her head, only for a small cut to cross through the larger one. She kicked at her father and scratched his hand, making him drop her.

"WHY?!" she screamed.

"Because you and some stupid Gryff were more important than her life!" Bjorn snapped, and kicked Svanhilde, knocking the wind from her. "And for some useless runt?!" He drew his sword and swung at her when the moon came out from behind the clouds.

She raised her hands, controlling the light around her to form a shield. Bjorn's sword shattered on the shield. The shield then shattered around Svanhilde, and it felt like she was falling, falling into an array of bright light and shinning orbs. Stars passed her in a silent howl. She managed to somehow land gently on her feet over a sphere with two bright, gold suns hovering around it, and passed into someplace knew. She fell on hot, golden sand and screamed as it slipped into her injuries. Tears and blood streamed down her face as she managed to stand. She sniffled, not knowing where she was. Only one thing seemed clear: She was very far from home. So, she walked.

She didn't get very far before dead, rotting, blackened hands shot up from the ground tried to grab her. She screamed and ran, seeing a shimmering blue…Barrier ahead of her. She ran hard, when a horrifying sight greeted her. More dead, rotting things…People and animals and some of them a combination of both. Svanhilde backed away slowly, but stopped and looked over her shoulder to see more of them. She was surrounded. She saw past the dead things in front of her, and saw something beyond the barrier. It looked female, with a golden cat head. She carried a bow and arrows, and seeing her made Svanhilde feel safe. She relaxed, standing still as the dead things closed in. The barrier opened long enough for the cat-headed woman to pass through.

She moved fast and graceful, landing inside the closing ring of dead things. She brought light to her hands and threw it out at the dead things. They disintegrated when the light hit them. When they were gone, the cat-headed woman knelt. Svanhilde fell over trying to look up at her. She was so tall, taller than all her brothers put on top of one another.

"You're so pale," the woman commented. She sounded like a god! "You must be from so far away." She scooped Little Svanhilde into her large hands and shielded her from the harsh suns. She sped back toward the barrier, taking care not to jostle the child in hands. A crane-headed man opened the barrier for her to jump through.

"What did you find, Oketra?" asked the crane-headed man.

"A small, pale child," answered the cat-headed woman, opening her hands. "She's hurt. I should get her to one of the healers. Oketra carried Svanhilde to her temple, children and people waving to her as she passed. Oketra took the time to wave back. In the temple, Svanhilde saw many cats, some hairless and some with beautifully patterned fur. Her savior set her on a pile of pillows and sent a cat to get one of the viziers. A human woman came and treated Svanhilde's injuries, though they just turned into scars and her nose was going to be dented for life.

Oketra came and knelt in front of Svanhilde. "Tell me about yourself…"

* * *

At 16, Svanhilde was six feet tall with gold and bronze hair, striking eyes with light blue around the pupils that grew dark further out, tanned skin, broad shoulder, powerful legs and arms, and a woman's body. Oketra, in her love and kindness of Svanhilde, had used her powerful magic to make her a woman. This came with several problems: A cycle of bleeding that caused pain and a large bust side. But she got past it. She fought and learned and lived with a Crop at 12. Four years of hard training later, her crop was getting ready for the Trials. Overall though, her life before Amonkhet was little more than a dream at this point. A dream she admittedly missed.

"What troubles you, Sister?" asked her crop mate Bakt. She was almost as tall as Svanhilde, but no less muscular. Bakt was her equal in every way. The other 18 of their crop looked to Svanhilde and Bakt for leadership.

"Thinking about my old life," Svanhilde answered.

"To think that people actually survive beyond the safety of the barrier," Bakt muttered.

"I know for sure I'm from beyond the barrier, but maybe further than the desert itself," Svanhilde pointed out, looking to the red sky of night. "I think I am from well beyond Amonkhet."

"I don't understand."

"I know; I don't expect you too."

They sat in silence, still looking at the sky.

"What is it like there? Where you're from?" Bakt asked.

"Nothing like Naktamun," Svanhilde asked. "It's not hot and doesn't have two suns. It's crisp and cool and we have a season called Winter, where snow falls from the sky. It seems like sand, but it's frozen water. The lakes and rivers turn to ice and the trees are so different." She created light and shaped it into a Gryff. "Gryffs. They're winged horses with a swan's head and neck." She made the light flap its wings and rear." She conjured another sphere of light and it turned into a bear. "This is called a bear. One did this." She hiked up her skirt, showing the four scars on her thigh. "They're fierce beasts." She made the Gryff attack and rear and bat at the bear, just like in her memories. She brought a third light, which was her watching the fight. "A Gryff saved me from the bear. I think it might have been the same one my mother saved."

Bakt watched in awe, and then turned to Svanhilde, braids swinging. "How do you know?"

"I saw its back right leg; it had scars from a hunter's trap. The Gryff my mother rescued had gotten its leg caught in a hunter's trap." Svanhilde looked to her friend. "Only dishonorable and cowardly hunters use wicked traps."

Bakt nodded, watching Svanhilde put out the lights. "We should sleep. The Trial of Solidarity is tomorrow."

Svanhilde nodded, and followed Bakt inside.

* * *

Bakt punched the stone wall. The Trial had been going so well! Then that stupid Angel came at her and that…that…IDIOT! Stupid Nehi! He had to jump in and save her! They succeeded. That's what really mattered right? Next came the Trial of Strength! But…Bakt fell to her knees. She wasn't sure she could do it. The door opened and she heard the approach of Svanhilde. They both wore cartouches.

"Nehi shouldn't have died," Bakt hissed, and let Svanhilde tended her bloodied fist.

"People die in the trials; it happens," Svanhilde pointed out, cleaning the cuts. "Besides, our crop _needs_ you."

"You're a better leader."

"Except I'm leaving."

" _ **WHAT?!"**_ Bakt had been forcing back her tears; now they fell.

"After last night, I realized I need to go home," Svanhilde pointed out. "My Trial of Strength is different from yours. I need to face the man who hurt me."

Bakt looked to the sharp, deep bridge of Svanhilde's nose and the scars on her face. Svanhilde was bandaging her fist. "All of your trials are back where you're from."

Svanhilde nodded. "Yes. And after losing Nehi, I feel all the more certain about going home."

"How will you get there?"

"I'm not sure…I will seek Kefnet for answers."

"Be careful then," Bakt told her. "And come back soon."

Svanhilde smiled, and embraced her friend. "I promise." She then pulled away and rose, leaving Bakt to her thoughts. After a moment, she ran after and stood on the steps as Svanhilde ran through the streets of Naktamun. She looked at the carving of a cat on the leather cord Svanhilde had given her last year.

"For you, and Nehi. I will pass the Trial of Zeal," Bakt promised. Only Svanhilde had known of her forbidden love for Nehi. "Good luck on your trials…" She went inside to carve a pendant to give to Svanhilde when she returned…

* * *

"You're out late," Oketra said to Svanhilde. She had been still as a statue, so Svanhilde had not noticed her. Their eyes met.

"I'm sorry Oketra," Svanhilde apologized. "I'm going to Kefnet's temple to figure out how to get back home. I fear my trials are there…"

"I understand." Oketra stepped down from her perch. "I was wondering when you would feel ready to return to your home, Svanhilde of Lindwatch."

"Lindwatch…" It rolled so easily off her tongue. She looked to the sky, then back to Oketra. "Thank you Oketra. Thank you for everything."

Oketra knelt and held out her hand. Svanhilde stepped gently onto the waiting palm and let the God embrace her gently.

"Have a safe journey, my child; we will see each other again someday," Oketra promised.

"I count on it." With a deep breath, she let go of Oketra, of Naktamun, and of Amonkhet. She shimmered, entering a place of nothingness and everything, and soon set foot in the snow of Soknheim…

 _Svanhilde will return in The Holds of Soknheim._


	2. Zpehyr's Origin: Visions from the Abyss

" _A thousand years ago, two World Walkers came to our world and fought a terrible war! One called Nathiel unleashed a terrible poison in the air that caused wildfires and terrible storms to distract the one called Karr. Karr ushered us to the highest trees and mountains, carved stone from the earth and grew giant lily pads, and rose ships from the depths and made them into floating cities. From there, he drown the world of Hadroia and fled, never to return until Nathiel was destroy…"_

" _Zephyr, you are the first Merfolk of our family…"_

" _Zephyr?"_

" _Zephyr?!"_

" _ZEPHYR!"_

"BAH!" exclaimed a Merfolk, falling back off his stool. Biologically and physically speaking, he was female, but identified as male. He got back up, rubbing his tired, aching eyes with the heels of his hands. "Sorry Gran; I haven't been sleeping well lately," he apologized. He was very handsome with soft contours and a round face and nose. His was an hourglass figure, skin a cerulean with navy blue freckle, lips, and short, messy hair while his round eyes were a swimming swirl of dark blue to light blue. His ears were long, but opened webbed, much like his fingers. His feet were both long and wide, perfect for swimming. He dressed dark, skin tight clothes and gold and silver jewelry, looking elegant and regal.

His grandmother was still an Elf. Oriella had been a child when the world drowned, so she was not born to a changed world. She maintained the ancient Elven features of being statuesque with long, pointed ears and sharper contours, jawline, and chins. Still, she was ancient, and her once sun-gold hair was now silver while her turquoise eyes were full over age and wisdom. Unlike Zephyr who swam a lot, she dressed in a loose, flowing gown and her feet were small and her hands unwebbed. Zephyr supposed that was a given. Elves were long lived, so newer generations were born better adapted for the environment around them.

"And why is that?" the ancient Elf asked.

"I've been having these dreams lately," Zephyr answered, outer eyelids heavy. "I dream of happening upon an abyss, and I hear a song that entices me to dive deeper and deeper and deeper…Until I stare into the eyes of a Gorgon who seizes my throat. As I gave into her eyes, I start turning into Diamond, Ice, Black Steel, Sandstone, and Oak." Oriella looked to him, eyes wide and watching. "She sings of a Dragon with an endless hunger who makes the ground tremble and crumble twin titans to dust. I sink into darkness and then I waken.

"I try to sleep again, only to see an endless library that seeks to grow. But its librarian has long since vanished. Its caretakers still exist, but without its librarian, the world has grown natural landscapes. This library is a world, artificial and holding the words and relics of long dead worlds. I wake again and find little time as passed.

"So I try to sleep again and find myself dancing across the pages of a book, except instead of parchment, it is sand and the words form great structures where eight giant, animal-headed gods watch after their people, loving a benevolent. Then a Dragon with golden scales and curved horns comes and rains fire. Whole generations are lost, four gods are altered, three are warped and made evil, and one betrays them all. She is horrible! She turns to me and grins.

"Irritably, I waken once more and give up on sleep. Why do I dream of this?" Zephyr asked. "Why do I see other worlds? Have visions of their woes? And where is this library? And more importantly: Its librarian?" He looked so tired, and sat on his stool. "My mind is a storm of dreams and visions. You speak of World Walkers. Am I one? Can I walk to other worlds? I feel a great need to do so…"

Oriella pulled a chair up and sat beside him, touching his smooth, webbed hand. "I cannot give you the answers," she responded, "but in you I see a spark. It lies dormant for a time. Perhaps you must go to the abyss in your dreams to find your answers."

"But there are many abysses on our world, especially where there was once oceans and rivers and lakes," Zephyr pointed out. Those still existed in Hadroia, but now most of the world was nothing but an ocean. It was just a wild guess over which abyss. He went to the map on the west wall of the room. It was large, ancient, and showed where the landmasses once were. He ran his hands over the map and his left paused over a location. He moved it: The City of Heatherwind, Capital of the Human Queendom of Serpentine.

Heatherwind's castle still stood above the water, settled on the high cliffs and even built into them, overlooking the sea. The city itself was half underwater, with several towers and tall buildings rising above the water's surface and connected by bridges. Given it was also a city, it was a real melting pot of culture, with Merfolk of various descents but still plenty of Humans, Aven, Gorgons, Goblins, and Elves. It was a couple week's travel from Giltwood. There had been a Star-Eyed Gorgon from Heatherwind, and they were was a massive abyss there. It all added up perfectly.

"I guess this is where I'm going," Zephyr told his grandmother.

"Based off your vision, I would have to agree," Oriella sighed.

* * *

Zephyr packed a few changes of bodysuits, his canvas map, and a couple of books. Books on Hadroia were very different from what they once were, having been made waterproof. He descended his family's ancient tree home to the family's pasture where they kept their beautiful and elegant seadeer. They had the front half of deer and the lower half of dolphins. His seadeer saw him and swam over with such grace, coming to a halt. He touched her head gently. She was a beautiful, vibrant silver with long, ivory horns that had been grown into an intricate pattern.

"Hey there Moonshimmer," Zephyr greeted, petting her neck. "We're going on a little trip." Moonshimmer made excited noises, nuzzling Zephyr and tugging on his hair a little. "Just be ready first thing tomorrow morning."

"Are you really going?" asked a small voice. He turned to his little sister Coral, who was pink-skinned with their grandmother's blond hair. She was blue-eyed like Zephyr.

"Yes; I have questions that need answers," Zephyr answered, stroking Moonshimmer's neck.

Coral swam closer and scratched behind the seadeer's ears. "Do you _have_ to take Moonshimmer though? I like her. She doesn't try to kick me."

"That's because you're impatient and Moonshimmer has the patience of a saint," Zephyr pointed out. He gestured for Moonshimmer to move back, and she did so, bouncing off the soft ground and swimming away from the door. Zephyr swam through the opening in the doorway, and young Coral followed. "You have to learn to be still and calm and not charge them. They are not domesticated pets. They are as wild as their siblings beyond our home. No one knows why the seadeer allow us to ride and protect them. The Elders say it's because it is because we treat them as our equals. I don't know if I believe that, but it's a fairly solid explanation." They swam amongst the small band of seadeer. "Respect them."

"Okay." Coral then sat among the herd as Zephyr backed away.

Their mother watched, wearing a mask enchanted to allow her to breathe, speak, see, and hear underwater. Her skin was a pale, silvery-blue. The webbing between her fingers only reached the first joints, her ears were curved, and her limbs were long. Still, she could not breathe, speak, see, or hear without the mask. Her children had gills. "You should be a herder," she told her son.

"I prefer to be a scholar," Zephyr pointed out, leaning against the wall of the wooden, filigree dome. He watched as the band grazed on the seaweed and sea moss, only working their way closer to Coral when they noticed she wasn't going to chase them. "I'm actually glad I'm going to Heatherwind either way. In the city, I can find someone to craft me proper…Attire."

Zepphira nodded. "We will miss you," she stated solemnly.

Zephyr's fin-ears twitched. "Have you see something?" he asked, worried. The Sight ran in their family, so they were used to visions.

"I've seen two awakenings in a storm," Zepphira answered, eyes distant. "A great maw from the depths of the abyss reaching to consume you, but then you bring your namesake upon it, and become one with the sky. As you fall, you vanish beyond all Sight."

"I bring my namesake upon it?" Zephyr asking, cocking his head to one side thoughtfully. His name meant "great wind." And the creature was from the abyss. So how could he bring great winds upon it? And become one with the sky? WHAT?! He swore his mother made so little sense when she had visions, but this almost sort of made sense. After for brining great winds and becoming one with the sky, did this mean there was more to his power than just the Sight?

* * *

The next morning came early, and brought the smell of cooked meat. His nose twitched and he sat up in his fish net hammock full of pillows and blankets. He sniffed the air. Bacon! He jumped out his hammock, hitting the floor with a thud. He grumbled an "ow" and got dressed. He rode the railing down to the family room where his mother and grandmother were cooking. Coral and Pearline were at the table eating bacon, fish eggs, and seaweed. Zephyr sat and helped himself to some of each, drizzling melted butter over the fish eggs. His mother and grandmother sat with them. Zephyr looked at the empty seat across from him.

His father had been a sailor, traveling the shallows until he decided to try and reconnect with one of the kingdoms across an abyss. That had been a grave mistake. The abysses were home to the largest, most terrifying creatures on Hadroia, many of them larger than a galleon and some actually able to consume one. And Aven could not fly all the way across an abyss, for their energy was not infinite. Eventually they would tire like all things, and most land underwater, they could not take the risk of such a perilous flight. No one travelled between abysses anymore. No one.

"Are you ready for your journey?" Pearline asked, blue eyes piercing as always. She was training to be the family herder, able to stop an angry bull just be staring him down. Her skin was silvery with speckles of white and grey and sharing in their mother's silver hair.

"As ready as I need to be," Zephyr answered. Last night, he called down an Aven who resided closer to tops of the trees to deliver a message to a Human librarian named Maxwell in Heatherwind. Zephyr had been to Heatherwind quite a few times, the last of which before Zephyr's father never returned from the abyss. One visit, he met Maxwell who leant him books and they talked at length about various subjects. They were now friends.

"And you'll be staying with Maxwell then?" Zepphira asked.

"That's the plan," Zephyr answered.

After a heavy breakfast, he grabbed his pack as his mother readied rations and Pearline and Coral readied Moonshimmer. When he came down, everyone was on the platform. Other families and patrolling Elves and Merfolk stopped to watch. Zepphira hugged her son tight and passed him a pack with almost two weeks' worth of rations and money for his journey. Zephyr then hugged his younger sisters. Oriella then came over and hugged him.

"You take care of yourself," she told him. "And here. Of everything that was recovered from your father's ship, only his compass made it home." The compass was beautiful, made of clear quartz, mother of pearl, and silver on a silver chain. It was an old piece, but still beautiful. "This will always help you find your way, no matter where you go."

"Thank you Grandma," Zephyr responded. He smiled softly, and then his mother handed him a spear. He accepted it and threw on his pack. He jumped into the water and mounted Moonshimmer. "Okay girl, let's go."

* * *

The days that followed were hardly interesting. Once he left the forest, he entered the plains. They were rolled, underwater hills where the grass ranged from golden to emerald, dotted with flowers whose cores glowed softly. Zephyr encountered the first village half-way across the plains. It was a collection of large vessels permanently anchored around the summit of a hill crowned by an ancient apple tree. The apples were sweet and salty with teal skin (for they had once upon a time been Granny Smiths) and the flesh inside was a soft blue. Smaller fishing boats hung around some distances away from the village. Zephyr guided Moonshimmer between ships toward the stables. He left the deer in their care and requested she be ready by morning. He climbed aboard the inn, looking around the walkways and docks that connected the village. He looked up to see the massive apple tree. It was so beautiful, yet sad. This area used to be a grand apple orchard, and when the flood came, all the apple trees died but this one, because it was stronger, older, and crowned higher ground.

"They call her the Mother Tree," an old, Merfolk huntress told Zephyr at the inn later that night. She had scars from where she fought large prey, though the lines on either side of her neck were gills. Her ears were round, but each lob formed three tendrils. She was of human descent.

All the times he had passed through Blue Apple Grove and he had never asked about the tree. He now shared a table with a Merfolk, asking after it with a sheet of parchment, ink, and quill. The inn had a laminator, which would put protective film over the parchment. Zephyr wished he could have met the inventor, Kalla Lumino, so he could thank her for such an incredible invention that saved the written word. She had made so many inventions due to her love of books so that books could survive underwater and be mass-produced.

"Because she was the first tree or because she survived?" Zephyr asked, taking notes.

"Because she was the first tree in the lost orchard," the huntress answered. "When only she survived, she gathered the souls of her children and grandchildren to her, and she grew bigger and stronger and saved the son of the woman who planted her, and his wife. The two ate her fruits, and gave birth to the first Merfolk, who sought out others to bring ships to fish and protect the tree. Today, the descendants of the apple farmers still guard the roots of the Mother Tree."

"Even you?"

The huntress smiled. "Even me."

The innkeeper then brought them apple dumplings, sweet and salty, but in the best way. The hint of Granny Smith sour added the unique flavor. If only there were more of the apples…

* * *

The islands were mountains that had been tamed by geomancers, carved by hydromancers into plateaus, and given life by the hardworking people. The islands were connected by long, stone bridges. It was a sight to see! Next was the swamplands. Most gave the swamplands a wide breadth, for it was a hazardous place. The water was foggy and dark, and the ground was muddy and slimy. Here, giant insects burrowed through the mud and pools off brine. Needless to say, sailors avoided swamps like they avoided abysses. At least the journey through was only a day long where traveling around it would take an extra week! This was the point where things actually got interesting; they were attacked by a giant centipede.

"Oh, Hell no!" Zephyr readied his spear and attacked.

After getting out of the swamp, he arrived in the deep sea mountains. The sea dragon- and sea serpent-infested waters surrounded a valley home to Merfolk of Goblin, Human, and Gorgon descent. Zephyr descended into the valley, barely avoid a sea serpent. Down in the city, he saw the people eye him and Moonshimmer. Zephyr were almost certain they had never seen a Merfolk of Elven descent before. There was only one inn and a small stable, so they didn't get many visitors. The leviathans must have made sure to that. He swam to the inn and rented a room.

"Don't get many visitors?" he asked.

"Nope," the innkeeper answered. "The accursed leviathans. And a'course that means that we have had to become so self-reliant that coin don have much value 'ere. So what have ye to trade for a room?"

Zephyr pulled out a loaf of bread. "Of Elven make." He had been saving it for his arrival in Heatherwind. Oh well. He would buy something else for his and Maxwell's dinner. The innkeeper took the look and examined it. It meant his approval, so he rented Zephyr a room for the night. Until it was time for him to sleep, he learned about the valley, surrounding mountains, and the leviathans that prowled the abyssal darkness and mountain cave systems. Traveling from this abyssal village through the mountains would be dangerous, but this was the fastest route to Heatherwind. He slept lightly, clutching a knife under his pillow. A part of him wisely did not trust the locals. And at midnight, his suspicions were confirmed when he heard the hissing of snakes. A Gorgon! He clenched his eyes tight.

"Wise," hissed a Gorgon as she clamped a hand firmly on his arm, "but unnecessary. Turning you to emerald would serve us no purpose." She dragged him from the bed. "You'll make a fine snack for the Dragon."

"Ooooh?" Zephyr chimed. "I'm Z. I'm a scholar. Would you tell me about this Dragon and any rituals that may be involved for the library in Heatherwind?"

"Humor will get you nowhere," the Gorgon hissed, glaring at Zephyr.

"Regardless of whether or not you take me seriously, may I please fetch my belongings?" Zephyr asked, weaseling out of her grip. "I really do wish to record this!" He opened his eyes and grabbed his pack. "I am absolutely fascinated by all of this! I've never been dragged from my bed before!" He pulled out his journal and pen, which were both waterproof before turning back to see the Gorgon giving him a confused stare. "What?"

"What? What is wrong with you? Most people would be kicking and screaming!" the Gorgon responded. "Not writing things down!"

"Well, like said: I'm curious about your Dragon, seeing as how one killed my father," Zephyr pointed out. "He was trying to sail across a great abyss to try and establish contact with one of the other continents, and a Sea Dragon emerged from the darkness and swallowed his ship whole!"

The Gorgon blinked.

"I'm sorry, is this your first sob story?" Zephyr asked.

She shook her head slowly.

"Didn't expect it to be. So, shall we?"

She nodded stiffly and led him away. Zephyr wondered though: Was this the abyss from his mother's vision? It couldn't be this one. He needed to be closer to the surface to use this namesake power of his. His whole life, he thought he would further develop his weak Sight power. But apparently he had some sort of dormant Aeromancy. Could he create wind underwater? He groaned.

"What?"

"Well according to my mother, I have a dormant power that a creature from the abyss will wake up," Zephyr answered, still following the Gorgon. "I'm wondering if this is it, so that's really why I'm excited."

The Gorgon said nothing they arrived at a massive crater at the edge of the forest. It was full of luminous blue brine. Zephyr saw a massive, dark shape under the brine's surface. He swallowed hard and wrote down what he was seeing. Out the corner of his eye, he watched the Gorgon swim away hurriedly. He looked back to the brine pool and saw an eye open. The eye appeared green through the blue brine, so it was likely golden-yellow. The massive Sea Dragon rose from the pool, and roared. It turned and tried to swallow Zephyr, who swam away into the woods. The Dragon gave chase, destroying the trees to get him. He decided to use his sight to get the upper hand, hiding behind a boulder to do so. There was a cave nearby in a weak, young mountain. Zephyr bolted for the cave, whistling sharply. The Dragon pursued him to the cave where it snapped its massive jaws around him, trapping its head in the cave and shaking the mountain. It actually collapsed over it. It struggled under the rubble before going still. Zephyr came out from behind a tree, sighing in relief. He had never used an illusion before.

* * *

Zephyr was glad for when he and Moonshimmer finally arrived in Heatherwind. Safe at last. He checked Moonshimmer into the undersea stables. He touched foreheads with Moonshimmer and went into the city. He took the appropriate and faster waterways to Maxwell's home and knocked. Maxwell answered, leaning against the doorframe.

He was Human, and a cute one at that. He was taller than Zephyr by a head with broad shoulders and built like a tank, which was odd for a scholar. His black hair was short with a long, braided strand on the side of his face with thick brows and stubble. He wore small, rectangular spectacles over his similarly shaped, dazzling ice blue eyes; blue robes with silvery white swirls along the hems, and knee-length, black, leather boots, one of which he kept a knife hidden in. He smiled warmly to Zephyr and let him in.

"Tea?" he asked, voice deep. "I got your favorite when I received your message."

"Yes, please," Zephyr answered, sitting on the stone bench in the drying room. He accepted a towel and dried off before changing into clean, dry clothes. He stepped into the rest of the house, smiling at the books, scrolls, and artifact strewn about. The living space was shared with the kitchen, which had a simple table and cushioned chairs. The furniture was intended to be comfortable for sitting long periods of time. "I'd recommend a maid, but they would not understand your organization system," he teased.

Maxwell huffed, putting a kettle of water on the stove to heat. Freshwater was difficult to come by, so non-water dwelling folk had to collect rain water or boiling seawater before using it. He pulled a chair out for Zephyr to sit.

"What tales did you bring me?"

"Well, I took a more dangerous route," Zephyr answered, bringing up his journal. "I naturally stopped in Blue Apple Grove and finally inquired about the tree. From there, I went through the Swamplands."

"Are you insane?" Maxwell demanded.

"Very. The rumors of giant centipedes are real," Zephyr responded. "After it was dead, the water around really started to stink. I didn't have much time to write about it in the bestiary before undead and carrions came to feast. I put a large hole in the head to be sure. Barely got away, but we made it unharmed." They discussed more over tea, especially in regards to the abyssal village, the brine dwelling Sea Dragon, the Lily Pad Islands, and the farmlands before the city. Maxwell listened to it all. But he wished to know why Zephyr was really there.

"Now that you've spoken of your journey…Why did you make it?" he asked.

"I need to swim over the abyss off the coast," Zephyr answered.

"Forget swimming through the swamps and inland abyss. _That_ is sheer stupidity," Maxwell pointed out, his stare hard. "Did you forget what happened to your father?"

"I know damn well what happened to him." Zephyr took a sip of his tea. "But my dreams, visions from my mother, and advice from my grandmother have led me here. I have questions and I need answers. And according to my mother, I have powers that are asleep."

Maxwell growled.

"I know you don't like this," Zephyr pointed out, "but it needs to happen." Time to change the subject. "Now, any interesting news?"

Maxwell rolled his eyes and refilled his mug. "The water level is down three feet from what it was last year."

 _This_ was news. Zephyr set down his cup. "Are you absolutely sure?" he asked.

"Positive. Last year, the workers saw a 6-inch reduction last year and only a 4-inch increase before dropping three feet this year," Maxwell answered. He poured more tea into Zephyr's mug and sat back. "And the year before that, the water went down a foot but gained seven inches. In fact, everyone has been saying the water has been receding a little more over the last 60 years."

"The question now is _why_? What is changing? Or what has already changed?" Zephyr added a few sugar cubes and cream. He stirred the tea, watching the liquid swirl. Maxwell brought him the chart noting the drops and increases over the last century. The forty years before were consistent, the same level the whole time. Sixty years ago was the start of the changes. He flipped to the previous centuries. They were the same. No increase, except for the flood, and no decrease. So something had to have happened sixty years ago. "A thousand years ago, two titans fought. One started destroying the world and the other brought the flood to stop the fire. After the water swallowed most of the world, it forced us all to evolve to survive while the water levels stayed consistent." He drummed his fingers.

"Perhaps it's a mystery to be solved another time," Maxwell stated. "In the meantime, you're here…"

"I am."

Maxwell was quiet, making Zephyr looking up.

"What's on your mind?"

"Err, you mentioned finding a binder, right?" Maxwell finally asked.

Something told Zephyr that was not what Maxwell wanted to talk about, but he rolled with it. "Yes. My previous one ill-fit me."

Maxwell nodded.

* * *

The next day, Zephyr sought out a new binder that would fit him better, especially in the water and under his swimsuits. When he returned to Maxwell's with the new binder on, his friend looked up. There was a faint blush on his face when Zephyr walked in and twirled to show off. He gave a brief cough and asked, "Does it work?"

"Much better than the old one and it works well underwater," Zephyr answered, smiling. "So Thing 1 and Thing 2 are now out of my way."

Maxwell nodded. "So, when are you…Going into the abyss?"

"Tomorrow, as soon as I know you'll look after Moonshimmer for me. I'll provide the first month's care for her. After that, I hope to return to provide another month's care for her."

"If you come back," Maxwell sighed, removing his spectacles. He rubbed his eyes, making Zephyr come and sit beside him. "Why are you doing this again?" his friend asked, tone heavy.

"To find answers to my countless questions," Zephyr answered. "Who are the titans? What are these worlds I see? What are these dormant powers I have?"

"And you can't find them here?"

Zephyr shook his head.

When the next day came and Maxwell finally agreed to look after Moonshimmer, Zephyr swam out. He made sure he had a few sets of clothes, his journal, quills, ink, extra paper, and a loaf of bread. He wasn't sure how far out he needed to go, and figured he would swim under the water beneath him was darker than the night sky. It took him two days and a few dead sharks to reach that point. There, he shook from the cold, fear, and anticipation. He swam a little more to keep warm, but it soon stopped working. His stomach sank in terror, his heart thundered, and the silence. Oh the silence. He started breathing heavily, but his throated tightened. The icy water around him chilled him further.

And as if sensing his terror, a screech echoed around him. He looked down, seeing the yellow glow of eyes first. There were at least three pairs of them, surrounded by darkness. The sounds the creature made were ungodly and piercing. And the creatures was closing in, more color becoming visible. Zephyr's heart thundered like a wild bird beating its wings against a cage, growing more violent. Without thinking, Zephyr reached out, calling a storm.

A tornado shot into the water, striking the creature's maw and suffocating it. It began to sink, while Zephyr was carried up and out of the water. High above the ocean, he was released, falling. His eyes fluttered, vision growing dark. Then the bird broke free and Zephyr was tumbling through…

Water?

No, too thick…

But at the same time it also felt like nothing…

And then he was actually in water. He swam quickly to the surface, gasping. He was on the shore of some island made…Of…Wood? He pulled himself out and looked up, seeing trees carved into bookcases. They were all full of books? He walked up to one and pulled it from a shelf, only for a creature made of metal to come and yank the book from his hands. The metal creature dried the book and shelved it. It then scurried off to attend on the bookcase trees and other books. Zephyr blinked, unsure of what to think about it. So, he explored. When he became hungry, he tried to eat his bread. Except all he found was dust where he had stored it. How did it not make it?! He searched for something to eat but failed. The creatures were all metal…He slept heavily. The next morning, he searched for anything organic, growing more and more desperate.

Soon, he laid on the ground, curling up. He tried to push his hunger away…

 _Clip-clop. Clip-clop. Clip-clop._

His eyes opened and he looked around for the source of the sound.

 _Clip-clop. Clip-clop. Clip-clop._

"He-hello?" Zephyr called out weakly. The metal creatures made rather distinctive sounds. This sound was different. He listened closely. It sounded like hooves. On wood. But…Only one pair. He ran to the sound and found a being that was hard to describe. It appeared female, and was quite tall. She had the legs of a horse, which was a deep violet; the upper body of a woman, skin covered in a soft, lilac fuzz; and long horse ears with white tips where normal ears would be. Her round eyes had thick lashes, the irises a beautiful crystal-blue to match the crystal horn spiraling from her forehead. Her long, flowing hair and tail were a soft white, the tips blue and red. She wore a dress that just…Didn't seem to match the rest of her, starting with a solid black bodice. The skirt faded from black to white, and sparkled in the right light.

She looked to him. "Hm? And who are you?" she asked, voice soothing and heavenly.

"Z-Zephyr," he answered, hungry and tired and shivering.

"And you're flesh and blood like I?"

He nodded.

"Well, then you are a Planeswalker like I."

"A-a what?"

"Come, I will teach you." She offered her hand. "And take you to someplace where you can eat."

Food sounded good, so Zephyr followed. He took her soft hand.

"Now, lose all focus and let yourself go," the beautiful woman explained. "Where you go next, looking for a soft, blue glow and follow it."

Zephyr nodded. His eyes slid shut and felt his senses vanish. His physical form vanished in a whip of wind. When he opened his eyes again, he was back in the place of think…Nothing liquid. This time he saw more colors, including the soft blue glow he was told to follow. When he emerged, he stepped out into a beautiful place surrounded by nine pillars. People of sorts walked around and by, some giving him looks and whispering.

"Looks like another Simic experiment," someone whispered.

"Look at that Orzhov noble!" another person gasped, and Zephyr followed their gaze to the horned woman who had saved him. She had a hood up.

"Orzhov?" he asked her. "And what's a Simic?"

"Name first, and then food," the woman responded softly. "I am Wisteria, and this world is Ravnica, the City of Guilds."

* * *

 _Zephyr will return in The Holds of Soknheim._


End file.
